Aurorae
by Weaslie
Summary: Bilbo Baggins and his daemon get pulled into an adventure across Middle Earth to resurrect a fallen empire. They get into fights, fall hopelessly in love and generally do things their father would disapprove of. A Hobbit/ Dark Materials crossover spanning from Bilbo's childhood, to the Battle of the Five Armies, and beyond. Bagginshield.
1. Prologue

Bilbo scratched as his feet as he waited, tucking his knees underneath his chin and sighed loudly, earning him a scolding look from his Ma. He watched as she tucked another strand of sweat damp hair behind her pointed ear and knelt down, muttering out curse words as she tried to pull out the nail again. Bilbo's Pa looked worriedly back at his son, nudging his wife with one elbow, putting a finger to his lips and muttering something to her as his fingers strained around the plank of wood coming lose. Bilbo heard his stomach rumble loudly, tightening his arms around his skinny legs and looking guiltily up at his parents as they continued to work, his Ma wiping a hand across her face as her husband carefully set the wood on the plush carpet in front of the round door. Bilbo looked down at the small furry lump curled on his chest underneath his shirt, big golden eyes staring up at him.

"Little ones?" Bilbo jerked his gaze up to the gaunt owl that came skittering softly towards him, feeling blunt claws on his skin as his own daemon crawled her way up to poke her head over the collar. "Remember, as soon as the door opens, you have to keep very quiet and very still."

Bilbo felt Damia shift into a shrew underneath his cupped hands, squeezing her nose through a gap in his fingers to nod at their mother's daemon. "We will Royce."

The owl bit affectionately at Bilbo's little finger and pressed his beak to Damia's forehead, pausing to look around the little hobbit hole, eyes appearing uncharacteristically sad. Bilbo looked to the bird daemon and back to his parents, watching as a scrawny cat wove its way around his mother's legs as the two adults gripped at eachother's shoulders and hissed half whispered words. The white breath curling around their heads reminded him of the dragons in some of Ma's stories.

Bilbo shuddered from a sudden draft and stumbled to his feet, Damia crawling up onto his shoulder and pressing up against the curls of his hair. They watched as his Pa helped his Mum into a cloak, bundling her up in multiple layers. The two stopped for a moment, staring at the scene, Bilbo's fingers finding the knot in his own mustard-yellow scarf and slowly undoing it as Damia scuttled into the baggy sleeve of his jumper.

"Ma." They said in unison, Bilbo ducking his head down as his parents and their respective daemons turned to face them. "Have this to keep you safe and warm"

Belladona looked down at her son and the bright eyes peeking over the cuff of his shirt and smiled slightly, wrapping them up in a hug, grabbing at her husband to drag him in as well. "Thank you my little 'Bo, I'm sure it will do its job brilliantly." Bilbo looked up through his Ma's curls to watch his Papa press a kiss to her forehead, his grip getting too tight around them. "You've got to look after your father and Parva while I'm out."

"We're perfectly fine managing for a few minutes in your absence." Said the cat daemon, now watching imperiously from Ma's glory box in the way she only did when she didn't want Bilbo or Damia to know that she was sad.

"You bloody Tooks will be the end of me my dear." Pa muttered instead, curling his palm around the back of Ma's head to flatten the unruly ringlets. He could feel something wet on the bare skin of his neck and hoped it wasn't his mother crying again. Everyone was doing that too much lately.

"I better be off now, little hobbits need their food." Ma sounded like she had a cold and Bilbo frowned up at her, hugging her once more tightly around the waist as she fumbled to take her knife and a sack from her husband. Bilbo was ushered back into the sitting room by Parva after that but Damia's sharp eyes still caught a glimpse of the swirling snow, a flash of a yellow scarf and chipped green paint. Bilbo curled up in the mountain of bedding on the floor that they had all been sharing and scowled up at the dark shape of his Papa in the arched doorway.

"Will Ma and Royce be okay?" That was Damia, her voice muffled in the many folds of fabric. Bungo Baggins slumped heavily onto the door frame, rubbing his temples and gritting his teeth against tears, looking up to see two pairs of identical golden eyes. They almost made the fear worthwhile. Almost.

"She'll be fine, the emergency food storage is just around the corner, she'll be back in no time." Bilbo's frown deepened if anything, his arm emerging from a blanket to gesture his Pa closer, gripping onto his waist coat and pulling him down under the covers. The elder hobbit went willingly, his daemon following close behind, both of them dragging the children closer. Bilbo could smell tobacco and ice on his Papa's skin and winced, burrowing further down into the bedding to smell Ma's perfume as well.

"What if the Orcs get her?" It was whispered, but in the dark, silent room with only the wind to disturb them, it was heard loud and clear. Pa hugged Bilbo closer for a moment, Damia feeling a rasp of a cat tongue on her back and the two relaxed into the hold, Bilbo burying his face in his Papa's shoulder.

"They wouldn't dare, anyone who gets between your mother and her food better start running now." Bilbo smirked and Damia giggled, shifting into a cat and curling up closer to Parva, almost swamped by the amount of fur.

The group lay there for a while, Bilbo watching the slow rise and fall of his Pa's chest in the candlelight, hearing the odd rasp of the cough that wouldn't go away. The other hobbit fidgeted after a short time, gently pushing a drowsy Bilbo off of him and moving toward the door, Parva pacing nervously behind him.

As the key turned in the door and the wind scattered loose papers around the corridor, a wolf howl curled through the air, the hair standing up straight along Damia's back, her claws cutting into Bilbo's side. All the two could see was their Pa's silhouette against the white light of the snow, painfully still in the quiet smial.

"I smell blood." Pa didn't even look back at his daemon, just reaching for the hat stand, carefully placing the lone cap on the nearby cabinet and tightening his hold on the strong wood. His face wore the same expression that, until now, had only been reserved for dirty dishes and muddy carpets.

"Papa?" His father twitched violently. "Is Ma and Royce going to be okay still?"

"_Are _Ma and Royce going to be safe still." He said mildly, pulling his pocet watch out of his pocket and flipping it open. "And yes, if I've got anything to do with it."

"So... are you going to help Mama bring back food then?"

"Yes, among other things." Bungo Baggins turned to face his son, slipping the watch back into his waistcoat and pulling his cravat tight up to his throat, Parva licking down any tufts of ruffled fur by his feet. "Now little ones. Stay here and stay quiet and, whatever happens, don't let the Sackville- Baggins' get their grubby mitts on the best silver."

Bilbo stood up, pulling a duvet up with him like a cape and watching as his Pa swept out of the door with the hat stand seeming like a staff in his hands. A paw stopped the door from fully closing, golden eyes looking up at Bilbo.

"Lets go on an adventure." Damia's voice was small and gentle, her tail twitching excitedly as Bilbo thought of elves and wizards and his mother's bedtime stories. He didn't even remember curling his fingers around the door handle and pushing it open against the wind, just Damia snuffling against his neck and the collection of silver cutlery he shoved down his shirt. Bilbo's toes were now going slowly purple as he sunk knee deep into the drifts, a butter knife held in his numb fingers and the wind stinging his eyes and face.

He couldn't open his mouth to speak to Damia but the cat just curled tighter around his shoulders to replace the missing scarf regardless, burying her face in Bilbo's collar. Even though they'd left just minutes after their Papa and his daemon the two were no where in sight, just the swirling snow and his own quickly disappearing footprints.

The sound that he heard next, Bilbo only recognised from when the wargs had almost got into Bag End, his Ma screaming a scared battle cry that woke both his Pa and Bilbo, the wood almost buckling against the massive wolves' combined weight. Damia went deathly still, her pulse jumping on Bilbo's neck and the two stared at each other for a moment, both wishing for their bed and above all, their Mama and Papa. Bilbo whimpered and pulled Damia down to hug her to his chest, his arms cradling her tawny fur as he stumbled to run to the sound, the silver still clinking against his chest.

"Mama?" Bilbo saw a flash of black against the white and flinched backwards. Adventures weren't supposed to be like this. "Mama!"

The breath was forced painfully out of him as a strong arm wrapped around his waist, fingers leaving bruises on his ribs. Bilbo twisted his head franticly around, kicking his short legs and trying to scream around the hand griping his mouth only to see a familiar waistcoat.

"Pa?"

"Yes you stupid, _stupid_ children. I told you to stay ins-" A loud howl pierced the air, followed by a chorus of replies. "Sweet Yavanna, they're coming closer."

"What's happening?" Damia whispered, wide-eyed and struggling in Bilbo's arms.

"My sweet Bilbo, lovely Damia please, I'm begging you, stay quiet and still this time. I swear it will be only for a while." Bungo placed the two children behind a large bank of snow, shaking at his only child's shoulders before pushing their eyes closed with one soft palm . "The orcs are coming my dear ones, you must be silent whatever happens."

Bilbo felt his Papa's arms gather him up into a hug one last time and the the older hobbit was gone, the soft pad of his running feet swallowed up by another roar from a warg and its rider. Bilbo twisted around to put his palms against the wall of snow he and his daemon were hid behind, tentatively peering over it to see a large shape towering above a decidedly hobbit-shaped silhouette. _His Mama_.

Belladona was shouting something indistinguishable at her enemies, wielding a sword that she thought Bilbo hadn't know about and slowing advancing forward, a sack full of food still in her hand. It was so quick Bilbo almost missed it, but as the warg pounced, half of a hat stand was pushed into the side of its muscle bound shoulder, a splattering of bright red on the snow as a scrawny cat leapt for its eyes, quick paws coming away bloody.

Bilbo watched, spellbound, as the warg's jaws snapped down, closing around the skinny chest of Bungo Baggins, his cravat still neatly tied around his pale throat. His mother was screaming louder now, this time audible above the howling wind and wolves. Something twisted in Bilbo's gut, the scene almost dream-like as his daemon changed for the last time.

A golden blur tore through the snow, Damia's body echoing the one still shaking their Pa's corpse in its jaws and fur reflecting the golden dust that hung in the air. Bilbo's heart pounded in his chest as his daemon leapt at the orc still smiling and shouting in its guttural language, a fierce Tookish pride running through him as the sound of bones snapping cut his Ma's screams short in her disbelief.

The black warg disappeared into the same gold dust as Parva as her Orc died, Belladonna Baggins crawling through the swirling white, gold and red to her fallen husband. More Orcs were swarming the area now, calling out in the absence of their brother's voice and wargs howling as another of their own kind appeared in the Shire. Belladonna collapsed at her Bungo's side, unaware of her child that still sat frozen among a pile of snow only feet away.

The hobbit ignored the cries of the wargs, and the golden one that was yelping and biting at her new unfamiliar form that refused to change. Instead she unwound the yellow scarf from around her neck and pressed it against the puncture wounds riddling the body underneath her hands, tears dragging down her face as they froze slightly on cheeks.

"Bungo? Bungo no. You can't have been heroic now, not for me. You're my Baggins, my sensible Baggins. You're not allowed to be a martyr." She whispered it as the blood stained her hands and the yellow wool, wargs starting to circle the couple where they lay crumpled in the snow. Bilbo was just about to stand up, to shout at her or to throw the butter knife in his hands or _anything _when a man- a real life big person- strode through the dip between two buried smials, wielding a staff that was nothing like the hat stand that lay splintered on the ground.

"GET AWAY!" he roared, a row of archers appearing over the mounds of snow, faces covered but still unmistakeably rangers. Bilbo scrambled back, a paw curling around him, Damia shielding him from view with her massive new body, lip curling back at the newcomer. The man, his grey robes beaded with chunks of ice didn't spare her a look, charging forward to where Belladonna still sat cradling the stone-cold corpse.

"Gandalf..." The man, who was the wizard from all his mother's best stories, looked down at the woman, his whole posture radiating rage. The Orcs and their daemons fled under his gaze, sensing the power that surrounded him and the horse by his side, the daeomon's voice joining the gruff shouts of the men chasing down the fleeing Orcs.

"Bella. We have to get you inside, they'll be back." Ma groaned low and pitifully in her throat, Royce echoing the noise as the wizard wrapped around her, pulling her to her feet.

"But Parva. My Bungo. My love..." She was staring between her hands and the prone form already being covered by the snow that still fell.

"We will deal with him later my poor hobbit. For now we must get you home before you freeze." The bird was speaking now, her voice calm and sad, herding Royce away like a mother with a chick.

"Home." Mama said dazedly, gripping tightly to the wizard's forearm. "Home... Bilbo. Oh Yavanna my little ones are alone."

Bilbo sat up at the mention, pushing Damia away slightly to try and stand up, his legs weighed down by snow. He tried to speak but all he could do was wheeze, breath croaky and not at all how it should be. The two adults froze and turned to face him. Well, not him, more the rather thin, golden warg that stood behind him, muscular shoulders hunched protectively and still growling low in her throat.

"Step away." It was directed at Damia, who stumbled backwards at the wizard's snarl looking to Belladonna for reassurance as her own hobbit stared at her, frightened and confused and _numb_. "Get away from that child.

Bilbo stared at the man who stood so his body was angled to protect his Mama and bit back a sob, the staff still pointed at Damia.

"No!" Bilbo held up a shaking hand and buried the other one in his daemon's fur, using her to help him stand straight. "It's Damia Mama, she saved you, make the wizard man stop it... you're scaring her."

Gandalf the Grey looked down at one of his truest friends, face ruddy with tears and the cold, still clutching a scarf that was dripping with the slowly freezing blood of her husband and croaked out a broken laugh.

"A hobbit with a warg daemon..." he relaxed the arm holding the staff and sighed, Shadowfax moving slowly toward the tiny form of the hobbit child, who stood, still sheltered from the snow by the whimpering creature above him. "I shouldn't be surprised."


	2. Part One

**_PART ONE: _**__Queen of Wargs__

__Cirro throws her head to the air, blood and leaf mulch filling her mind as a hand curled tighter around the white fur on her neck, digging deep into the thick flesh with sharp nails. The harsh grip made each thump of paws on the rain- wet ground jar through her, muscles grating together as Cirro is urged faster.__

_"_Vrapog scara!"__

__She whines and pushes herself forward, maw twisting up into a snarl at the order and the scent of burning fur and fat. She can see the fires now, twisting bright in the dark camp and sending sparks into the night sky, her pack howling up to the moon above the guttural language of the orcs.__

"__Bolg!"__

__The screams of the wolves are cut short save for one at the Pale Orc's shout, Cirro's paws still racing towards the centre of the camp where the bonfire curls upward to kiss the sky. The son of her master rides to meet them, digging sharp heels into Njiya who manages to whisper out a shivered greeting of ____**-m**____**abrotnos- **____before his face is tugged violently to the side as the two orcs begin to hiss. Cirro presses a nose to Njiya's flank and clicks her teeth together for her pack brother to continue in muted growls.__

__**who screams?**__

__**kista. he stole food for the pups and now he burns for his kindness**__

__She bites back a whine at the familiar name as the two wargs are driven closer to the cries, cursing her rider in every tongue she knows and hoping that he is too distracted to feel the words through the bond.__

__They stumble through into the centre of the camp, the bonfire blazing in the very heart of a circle of tents and orcs, the cracking of burning wood and breaking bones and guttural shouts almost indistinguishable from each other.__

__Kista is an old warg, his orc and rider already looking for a replacement dyr-snaga, looking for any excuse to be rid of his wolf. Kista looks his age more so than Cirro has ever seen, slumped too close to the fire and not seeming to care. Still he bows his head respectfully. As he moves the light glances off of red bubbles of flesh, the grey fur blackened and singed and slick with melted skin.__

__**i'm sorry mabrotnos, the little ones were so hungry**__

you are forgiven

__The warg falls in on himself like a puppet with its strings cut, body moving with the kick that is delivered to his side. The orcs don't see the last flash of defiance in his eyes like all his kin do, that deep set resentment born from a free animal whose soul is enslaved from the moment they enter the world.__

__**may i**____**seek freedom?**__

__Cirra nods her head once, the Pale Orc twisting a fist into her pelt as he realizes what she is doing, unable to act as her permission is given. Kista, for all his injuries and bone-deep tiredness moves with a speed that is only ever seen in moments like this, the first and last act of free will. He spins around, muscles taught and teeth bared, powerful jaw closing around the ribcage of his rider, screaming in pain as the same wounds he is inflicting dig deep into his own body. Kista bursts into golden dust as his orc dies.__

__It is over.__

__Cirro can feel anger clench around the bond, tearing at her mind as Azog screams at the loss of another rider and experienced warg.__

_"_You defy me?" Absolute silence falls on the group and Cirro wonders if she has pushed it too far this time, choking on a growl as her master's single claw presses slowly into her shoulder. "I have supreme power over your life snaga... Anything you do will only hurt yourself, or does your marr dyr mind not understand?" __

__**i understand**__

__She feels her legs falter as the metal digs deeper. __

__**i understand! i understand goth azog!**__

__Her voice is shrill and grating even to her own ears, smugness radiating from the Pale Orc and swamping her already pain- clouded mind.____Njiya looks at her worriedly but stays stock still, obviously conscious of the hand resting on his own neck even as Cirro meets his gaze. She blinks golden eyes at her pack-brother and the world melts away, blurring at the edges, and she sees a warg as meek as a pup. __

__She digs this memory into the furthest reaches of her mind and keeps it there, letting it grow and fester as- though she does not know this now- a free warg is born in the kindly West and a series of events start to unravel.__


	3. I

Bilbo felt his back click as he stretched, the late afternoon sun playing on the water that ran over his feet and the warm mass of fur behind his back snoring quietly. He set his pipe down on a rock by his side and leant his head back to watch the light through the leaves above him, far away from the prying eyes of the Shire.

"We better be getting back, 'Mia." he yawned, elbowing his daemon and groping for the socks and gloves that he had placed a safe distance away from the stream. "It'll be getting dark soon..."

"Why can't we just stay here forever, no one will miss us." Damia groaned, lolling her head up to squint up at the horizon, Bilbo feeling her muscles tense and stretch under the sun-bleached fur on her back.

"Not miss a warg the size of a pony?"

"Don't be contrary, Little One, you know exactly what I mean." Bilbo squealed when his daemon playfully snapped at his side, legs jerking as he tried desperately to save his boots from the water and dunking his shirtsleeves in instead.

"How dare you, I am a respectable hobbit of Ba-" Bilbo swore loudly as Damia picked him up by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the water. His hands grabbed fruitlessly at the thick fur around her face, the shorter fingers on his right hand slipping on the fine hairs. "You filthy mongrel, get your paws off me!"

"That language doesn't sound very respectable Mr Hobbit." Damia laughed, smirking down at her little Bilbo as he pushed back the dripping curls off his forehead, standing knee-deep in water. The warg daemon slunk closer, looking up from the damp fur covering her eyes, before taking a deep breath and shaking, spraying the clearing. Bilbo squawked and desperately covered his face with his hands, crawling onto the bank and curling into a ball to avoid the worst of the water.

"You're a fully grown adult... No wonder I'm bloody Mad Baggins with you gallivanting around and acting like a fauntling." Damia said nothing, simply manoeuvring around to lie down on top of Bilbo, the small hobbit swamped in thick golden fur and the smugness radiating off his daemon.

"I hate you so much."

"What was that Mad Baggins? I can't quite hear you." Bilbo jabbed his fingers into her ribs and she yelped, twisting away, sending up a cloud of leaves as she squirmed. The hobbit sat up, refusing to look at his sniggering daemon, fussing over mud stains on his shirt and doing up his cuffs with slipping fingers.

"I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm in the company of possibly the most annoying creature in the whole of Middle Earth. We've got to go home now or else I'll die of discomfort." Bilbo muttered, ignoring the clicking of his joints as he stood up, trying to brush the dirt on his trousers off of the damp material. He paused when reaching for his boots, the dead nerves in his fingers struggling with the laces, but it was better than going bare oot

"More annoying than the Sackville- Baggins'?"

"Especially more annoying." The pair were wondering out of the woods now, the edge of the trees just in sight and the warg humming to herself as she dragged the tips of her paws through the fallen leaves. The light was dwindling and the sky above the Shire was turning pink, the thick rain clouds gathering to the west almost out of sight. Bilbo looked down at this little home town and sighed, rubbing a grubby hand over his face and closing his eyes against the sunlight for a moment, listening to his daemon mumble to herself.

It had been thirty years since the land in front of him had been covered in ice, the smials and huts indistinguishable from the rolling hills of snow and camps of orcs settled on top, waiting until a hobbit came up for food.

"Smile 'Bo." Damia reminded lightly, nudging Bilbo's hip with her nose when the little hobbit had stopped, his soft eyes glazing over for a moment too long. Said hobbit fixed a grimace to his face, the expression in his eyes closing off as he watched his daemon lower her shoulders and wag her tail, her mouth falling open into a placid grin. She'd learnt that from Farmer Maggot's terrier in her attempts to make people more at ease around her. It hadn't worked.

The two wandered down the twisting lanes towards Bagshot Row, Bilbo's hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the boots that looked so unnatural on his feet even after the years of wear. Damia padded along beside him, shepherding him around in order to avoid any hobbits that may cause any problems.

As they reached the smart green door Bilbo looked up, startled when he saw a piece of paper shoved in the letter box, a shape scratched into the paint above it. The hobbit traced over the strange rune with one finger, other hand tugging the envelope, Damia sniffing worriedly around him, not saying a word. He slipped a nail under the seal and pried it off, the cheap wax crumbling away, unraveling the letter:

_Dear Mr Baggins,_

_You are a very hard hobbit to find._

_I assume you remember me, either way you will be receiving some visitors in your home tonight regardless of you presence._

_There is the matter of an adventure to address._

_Best Wishes, Gandalf the Grey._

Bilbo stared blankly for a a moment as Damia read over his shoulder, the breath on his neck stopping as her eyes found the signature scrawled at the bottom. His hands fumbled on the paper as he tried to fold it away, his sweat-damp fingers smearing the ink slightly. Damia had gone preternaturally still, reminding Bilbo that, for all the puppyish looks and teasing, his daemon was a predator. He absentmindedly carded his fingers through her fur, the daemon unconsciously leaning into the touch as the hobbit stared at the strange carving in the little round door.

"What do we do?" Damia said quietly, a growl rolling in her throat.

"We do what we must." Bilbo's hand flew compulsively to the scarf tied around his neck. "We make dinner."

"I wouldn't worry too much." Damia hissed, nosing open the door as Bilbo undid the lock, hackles still raised. "He always has had an issue with arriving too late."

Bilbo swallowed sharply, fingernails digging softly into the daemon's flank as he tensed all over, the muscles in his slim shoulders bunching up.

"Stop. Please." Damia whined an apology, wiping her paws delicately on the mat before stepping fully into their home, her huge body slightly too large for the hobbit architecture. "You must be polite. It wasn't his fault that Papa died." Damia hummed and padded toward the kitchen, Bilbo following closely behind as he shrugged of the blazer and stepped out of the shoes and socks, toes curling into the soft carpet.

"And what about the adventure?" The hobbit paused in tugging an apron over his head and peered through the strings at his daemon, hearing something strange in her voice. The warg sat out of place in the small room, legs curling around the stove and head slightly bent in a well practiced position.

"Why?" Bilbo scrambled up onto the counter to reach his recipe book not making eye contact with Damia as he did so. "Are you interested?"

"Don't use that tone. We both want to." She said, matter of fact as she began to groom her damp fur and Bilbo slammed a pan down on the counter slightly too hard. "You're as desperate as me to get away from these funny little people who stare and mutter behind our backs."

"You talk about hobbits like I'm not not one." Bilbo said stiffly before turning on his heel and to heading towards the pantry, Damia's voice still audible.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You're a warg. We're both wargs. Not some tame little dogs." Damia hissed dangerously quiet, her cool demeanor vanishing. Bilbo's legs wobbled and he gripped tight to the shelf in front of him, his head falling onto the cool wood and his teeth clenching.

"What if I want to be a 'tame little dog'? What if I don't want want an adventure like you do? What if I just want to stay here with my books and my kitchen and my waistcoa-" The hoarse words caught in his throat as a loud banging came from the front of the house, Bilbo dropping the ingredients in his hands. "Damia!"

The daemon skittered to a halt outside the pantry, eyes wide, the cold contempt completely gone. The two stared at each for a moment before Bilbo took a small step forward and curled a hand around Damia's ear, the warg huffing and touching her nose to her hobbit's wrist. It was enough of an apology for now.

"Go round the back, stay quiet." Bilbo muttered. The pair had faced too much hostility for Damia's unusual form, the sturdy locks on the windows and doors testament of too many bad experiences. The daemon growled and dropped her tail between her legs, her ears flat against her head.

"The moment you want these visitors of the Grey Wizard out I will be here, Little One. They will not dare force you into anything, only I am allowed to do that."

"Oh Damia." Bilbo gripped at the long fur on her neck even as the knocking came again, standing on tiptoes to press their foreheads together. "Wish me luck."

The daemon licked the top of Bilbo's head, the hair sticking out at weird angles and shuffled backwards, tail hitting a round of cheese onto the floor. The hobbit felt the panic welling up again and he pulled his thin leather gloves out of his waistcoat, pulling them onto his scarred hands, checking that his slippers covered up the worst of the frostbite on his feet. He took a deep, fortifying breath and jogged to the small door, hand flying over the locks only pausing when it reached the door handle.

Bilbo didn't get a chance to contemplate running back into the depths of the smial to the guest room  
>holding Damia. Didn't get a chance to think of anything much, apart from a few select curses, before he was thrown back by the weight of the door flying open. He managed to save his head from smashing against the floorboards, seeing a blur of green paint and the shadows on a menacing face glaring around his home as he fell. Bilbo looked up as the man- dwarf- looked down, the hobbit's eyes going from tattoos to corded muscles, to the knuckledusters and finally to the massive dog at his feet.<p>

This wasn't the kind of dog Damia had been complaining about just minutes ago, almost the same size as his daemon and covered in thick beige fur, jowls drooping slightly to reveal thick, sharp teeth.

"Are you okay Laddie?" Her voice was surprising to say the least- melodic, quiet and seemingly genuinely concerned for the hobbit sprawled at her feet. "He doesn't know his own strength is all."

Bilbo looked up at said 'he', who was carefully undoing the buckles holding two great axes to his back, the straps of the holster stretching around his wide shoulders barrel- like chest. The hobbit gulped, staring up at the bearded face. 'Unaware of his own strength' was the last trait Bilbo would have pinned to this man.

"I'm fine. Just startled." Bilbo lied, brushing the dust off of his clothes as he clambered to his feet. "...Where is Ganda-"

"Dwalin. At your service." The dwarf interrupted, looking straight above Bilbo's head and through to the kitchen, weapons dropped to the (now dented) floor. His fist swung up to is chest-and for a moment Bilbo was certain he was going to be hit- and the dwarf swept down into a deep bow. The hobbit stood stunned for a moment, staring at the heavily tattooed head of his guest before coming sharply back to his senses, hands scrabbling to pull off the scruffy apron.

"Bilbo Baggins," he said, awkwardly mimicking the courtesy, "At yours."

"And my name is Aes, Master Baggins." The dog said gently. Bilbo watched as the massive daemon dipped her head, looking inquisitively around the smial, obviously looking for another of her kind.

"Her name is Damia, my daemon I mean. She's shy." Bilbo shrugged, cringing at the lie. "Come inside, we were just making tea."

Dwalin grumbled something completely indistinguishable from the thumping of his boots as he rushed to the dinning table, his daemon following at a much more sedately pace. Bilbo sighed and ran a hand through his hand through his curls, glad that Damia hadn't burst through a door and tried mauling someone. Yet.

A more gentle knock tapped against the door and Bilbo relaxed slightly, the wizard would know how to handle this.

"You're here at las-" For the second time in as many minutes Bilbo was struck dumb, staring across at yet another dwarf, a dog at least as big as the one currently shedding all over his kitchen at his side. The older dwarf peered around Bilbo at the axes while simultaneous putting his fist to his chest and saying:

"I see the others have started to arrive... Balin, at your service." Bilbo made a small squealing sound that may have been a thank you, staring at the impressive white beard. It wasn't the height of hobbit manners but Bilbo didn't even like visitors when they were invited.

"Cyn." The white daemon said, nodding once, before hurrying past him toward the other guests shouting out something in a language that Bilbo certainly didn't recognise. The hobbit twisted around just in time to see the two dwarves crush each other in a bear hug, slamming their foreheads together in a way that couldn't have been enjoyable.

Bilbo cradled his suddenly aching head in his hands, trying to block out the sound of the guttural language being shouted in his dining room and a creak that sounded suspiciously like his larder door being opened. The hobbit looked down one of the corridors of his smial to the room his daemon was in, rolling his neck and feeling the joints click as he moved to look out the window for any sign of Gandalf. That blasted wizard was going to have some questions to answer when he finally managed to turn up, courtesy to guests be damned.

Bilbo lifted the heavy velvet and lace curtain off of the cool glass, pressing his face close to see if he could catch a glimpse of the blue glow of Gandalf's staff. What he saw instead was very different, for outside the unassuming and once respectable Bag End there appeared to be a small lion.

Oh Yavanna, what had he gotten himself into.


	4. II

Bilbo heart stopped in his chest and he scrambled for the door handle before flinging it open to the sight of a dark haired dwarf scrambling up after the daemon, hands pulling on the cat's tail. He turned his panicked eyes over to the smiling face of another man with a leopard type animal draped across his wide shoulders who was trying to peer over his head at the inside of the smial.

"I told you this was the right place you idiots!" The blond shouted and yelped as the daemon tugged at his ear with long white teeth. "Hello Mr Boggins!" Bilbo shuffled backwards into the relative safety of his home, hand gripping at the lock and wondering what he had done to deserve this.

"Why is there a lion eating my petunias?" He asked instead and watched as the dwarf in front of him leant backwards in time to see the great cat outside spit petals out over Bilbo's manicured garden.

"Kili was dropped on his head as a baby." The dwarf said unhelpfully as an affronted shout came from the other dwarf as he skidded into his companion, the lion not far behind.

"Mama said that was a load of rubbish you elf-" The dark haired dwarf was cut short as he tripped over the lion daemon, swearing loudly and grabbing a handful of golden braids as the cat hissed and spat underneath his boots. The head attached to the hair tried to break free, shouting over the curses being snarled out by his brother.

"I'm Fili."He said, doing his best to bow even as he was elbowed in the face by his brother and the leopard hissed as she fell from where she was perched, her claws tangling in the long braided hair.

"Kili." A growl not too dissimilar from Damia's followed the brunet's announcement, the long canines sinking into the dwarf's arm as the lion that had taken thirty years off Bilbo's life struggled to get out from underneath the pile of bodies.

"Regis."

"And Amo." The leopard said, her high voice muffled by the mouthful of hair.

"At your service." They said in unison, all bright smiles and undertones of well-meaning violence.

"At yours and your family's." Bilbo wheezed, clutching at the bookshelf but at least remembering his manners this time. _Oh Eru_, he needed a drink. The hobbit shuffled back to the kitchen where the two other dwarrows were still sat, muttering about gold and dragons and all number of god awful things.

"Balin!"

"Dwalin!" The two boys and their daemons bellowed and stumbled to their feet, Dwalin laughing in a way that made Bilbo want to cower in a corner somewhere and swept Fili and Kili up into a bone crushing hug.

"My little princes and princesses." Said the beige hound daemon of Dwalin's, touching noses with the hyperactive wild cats that were ruining Bilbo's carpets with their sharp claws. The hobbit sincerely hoped that the titles thrown around were purely pet names.

Bilbo reached blindly for one of the scones on the table, staring at the happy reunion and wondering what was happening. And what the would happen. He almost choked when the door knocker slammed again, dropping the scone on the ground.

"Someone's at the door." Bilbo muttered, mind wandering to the books he'd read on dwarves, specifically to the Dwarven attitudes on Orcs. And wargs. What had that blasted wizard been emthinking_/em _?

Stumbling down the hallway, Bilbo winced at the sound of claws scratching the guest room door and took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions under control even with the dulled murmur of many voices outside. He pulled open the door quickly before he could think better of it.

Eight dwarrows stood on his porch, weapons slung round their shoulders and daemons of various sizes at their feet. Bilbo squealed and tried slamming the door shut, heavy boots getting stuck in the way as the small hobbit through his entire weight against it, his loud protests drowned by the chorus of ' At your service'.

"No. You've got the wrong house. No more visitors." Bilbo said resolutely as the tip of a very familiar looking staff jammed its way through the gap, levering the door open even as Bilbo growled out the wizard's name.

"You've got incredibly impolite since we last met Bilbo Baggins." The hobbit leapt back at the insult, defensive words cut short as sixteen bodies (some considerably larger than others) toppled on top of him. "You must be more careful, it's not like you to leave friends waiting."

Bilbo stared incredulously up through hair, axes and various tails at the man leaning causally on his staff, grey robes draped over his deceptively skinny frame and pipe clamped between his thin lips. A low growl echoed from where Damia was audibly pacing but it was drowned out my the roar of happy dwarven voices and clink of cutlery. The only person other than Bilbo who seemed to hear it was a dwarf hugging an angry looking honey badger to his chest and had an axe sticking out of his head. Bilbo whimpered and pulled the threadbare yellow scarf tighter around his neck.

"Gandalf. What is happening?" The hobbit said haltingly as a large red-haired dwarf made a beeline for Bilbo's carefully stocked shelves with a beaver following close behind, claws scratching the polished floorboards.

"You have guests, an event that I have no doubt has not occurred in quite a while." The wizard muttered, looking over the throng of dwarves with a benevolent smile and completely ignoring the blushing hobbit. "Could you put on a few eggs my dear Bilbo? And bring over some red wine?"

"I- Just- In a-" Bilbo took a deep breath and pulled at the cuffs of his shirt, standing up a bit straighter. "I am going to inform Damia of the nature of our guests."

The sudden sheepishness that twisted the wizard's features was almost worth the fear that pulled at Bilbo's lungs.

"These dwarrows... they will not judge Damia too harshly for her form." The hobbit hissed out a breath through his teeth and tugged anxiously at the fingers of his gloves.

"Yes they will, that's what people _do_. And usually we just have to deal gossiping but these dwarrows they have..." Bilbo gestured to the pile of weapons in the corner and trailed off as a dwarf with intricate white brads circling his head cut in between the two. "You had no right. No right to put her in danger, put me in danger."

"To think I have lived to see the day Belladonna Took's son 'No right' me." Gandalf said sadly, looking down at the smaller man who was shaking slightly where he stood, all pent up tension and fear. The wizard frowned slightly and settled a gentle hand on Bilbo's curls trying to picture the little faunt he'd last seen stretching his arms around the neck of a great warg and crying out in her defence. "This place is not good for you, your soul was cemented in adventure and violence, Damia does not belong here."

"My mother was a Baggins, she treasured my safety above all else, and that's what we have here. Please Gandalf, just get them out of here."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, I've made a promise." Bilbo seemed to visibly deflate, all the fight leaving him as his shoulders slumped.

"Just protect Damia then, if they find out."

"You worry too much, of course I will Bilbo, don't ever doubt-" Gandalf didn't get to finish, instead being interrupted by a steady beat of cutlery against polished table starting up in the room across, the loud buzz of many deep voices swamping the hushed conversation. The hobbit's lips stretched upwards into a grimace and he was gone from Gandalf line of sight in a flash of burgundy waistcoat and pained scowl.

Bilbo walked into his dining room, his and Damia's little place of refuge, to see the brown- haired dwarf from earlier and the frankly terrifying Dwalin attempting to sword fight with his father's best cutlery, the other dwarrows decimating his pantry around them. Something desperate gripped at him and, warg daemon or not, Bilbo was scared and stressed and his voice unbearably squeaky.

"Oh please stop it!"

A raven turned to him from where she had been tearing at his tablecloth seemingly unconsciously with her long talons and laughed.

"Alright then, you heard the halfling, lets clear up." Something heavy settled in his stomach as the other dwarrows laughed, still smarting from the derogatory term. One of the younger brothers was the first to move, chucking a plate like a frisbee an older dwarf and Bilbo clenched is eyes closed to prepare himself for the inevitable sound of his mother's best china smashing. But it never came. In a rush of movement the empty plates were being moved around the packed room at incredibly high speeds and Bilbo felt his heart in his throat.

"Please do be careful!" Bilbo squealed as a column of bowls wobbled precariously, something angry and altogether not fit for a gentle hobbit such as himself. He was just angry enough to ignore the growing sound heavy padding of paws outside and the steady rumble of a growl making its way through the smial. "Don't bother, I can quite manage!"

The dwarrows, oblivious to their host's growing temper began to sing possibly the boisterous and just plain insulting song Bilbo had ever heard, Gandalf slumped back in a too-small chair looking on at the proceedings with a happy smile.

"_Chip the glasses and crack the plates!__  
><em>_Blunt the knives and bent the forks!__  
><em>_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates-__  
><em>_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!__  
><em>

_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!__  
><em>_Pour the milk on the pantry floor!__  
><em>_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!__  
><em>_Splash the wine on ever-"_

The bang of a door flying back on its hinges. Bilbo's pulse thumping in his ears as he readied himself to run, Gandalf's promises be damned._  
><em>  
>Near silence settled on the room, the only sounds the low rumble of a snarl and the occasional creak of a chair, all the dwarrows and their daemon's too stunned to move. Damia prowled the edge of the group crowded around the table, her ears pressed back against her head and her lip curled up over her fangs. With an eerie calmness she rounded on a small fox-like creature with large ears hiding in the folds of a knitted scarf.<p>

"Put that doily down and be silent or I swear I'll skin every single one of you miserable dwarves," Damia spat the words, each well-pronounced vowel curling off of her tongue in a snarl that made the fox disappear further into the wool. "And use your beards to clean up the mess you have made."

She snapped her teeth in emphasis, the noise startling most of the dwarrows into frantic action with weapons being pulled out of seemingly no where. 'Kill it!' seemed to be the phrase of choice from most, the petunia- eating lion instead trying to leap to Bilbo's rescue only to get batted away by a massive paw and a bark.

"Get your filthy hands off of my hobbit. Tracking dirt through the carpets, ruining out pack- mother's possessions, have you no manners?"

Damia was caught half way through her rant by Dwalin charging her with an axe that must have been well hidden under his cloak and screaming out in the dwarven tongue. Before his daemon could do something as uncouth as decapitating a guest Bilbo slid between the pair with his arms outstretched and his face flinching away.

"I beg you, please stop it!" Satisfied that the dwarrows weren't going to do anything drastic for the next couple of moments Bilbo turned on his daemon. "And _you, _what are you thinking, treating visitors in such a way? I am ashamed of you."

"The warg... it is your daemon?" Muttered one of the dwarrows who may have been Balin, breaking the choked silence that had swamped the group.

"She. And yes, this is Damia."

"And you would do well to remember that." The warg muttered, baring her teeth at the other daemons. Bilbo turned on Damia again and shoved at her massive shoulder, scowling up at her before turning back to his guests with a decidedly sheepish expression.

"She's terribly rude, I am so sorry." Damia grumbled but Gandalf just fixed the hobbit before him with an appraising stare, biting at the stem of his pipe and exchanging a glance with Shadowfax.

The dwarrows, the food forgotten, continued to watch as Dwalin fell back into his chair and let his axe fall still across his knees. After a heavy pause a ferret crawled to the top of the bread bin, her tail flicking nervously behind her and coughed to get the ancient wizard's attention.

"This is why you called us here? For the warg?"

"Yes, among other things." Bilbo pressed harder against Damia to keep her from doing something entirely un-hobbitish and looked pleadingly up at Gandalf. "Oh don't give me that look Bilbo Baggins, I knew they wouldn't hurt her."

"Oh Mahal." Whispered the lion as she looked from Damia to Bilbo and back again, the fur on her back standing up, pressing against Fili's leg. The group turned their attention to the young dwarf who was clutching at his brother's sleeve and looking conflicted, an unspoken question hanging in the air. "Uncle's going to be _so_ pissed."


End file.
